


Alone Together

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Triverse [2]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Existentialism, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-08-28 12:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16723713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Intelligents. ITGs, for short.Only around 1000 registered units were produced and sold domestically. Sales records are incomplete at best.The last thing the Castle Rock PD expected to find today was one of those rare thousand pirated designs. An imitation of imitation, it was no secret Elijah Kamski’s designs made their way through countless hands during CyberLife’s rise to the top of the market. Intelligents was one of those many short-lived splinter companies trying to beat the curve on what made a convincing synthetic human so desirable to consumers.002-313-Dennis supposed he fit the bill. Commissioned in 2023, produced by a now-defunct plant in Boston, he wasn’t exactly privy to what made him ‘superior’ to anything from a CyberLife assembly line. Most days, he hadn’t been given cause to question it.005-809-Henry was walking, talking cause to question.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New mini fanfiction from the two of us! Will only have around three chapters or so, was only supposed to be a one shot at first... oops? 
> 
> We both know this is an odd idea, but it was too good to pass up. We hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The song that inspired the title was “Alone Together” by FOB, if anyone wants to take a listen :)
> 
> Update 3.14.2019: official prequel to _Trifecta_ that this became, we hope to finish it in the near future. ^^;

Intelligents. ITGs, for short.

Established 2021. Filed for bankruptcy in 2025.

Only around 1000 registered units were produced and sold domestically. Sales records are incomplete at best.

They were hardly a drop in the ocean compared to CyberLife’s millions of artificial bipeds, right?

The last thing the Castle Rock PD expected to find today was one of those rare thousand pirated designs. An imitation of imitation, it was no secret Elijah Kamski’s designs made their way through countless hands during CyberLife’s rise to the top of the market. Intelligents was one of those many short-lived splinter companies trying to beat the curve on what made a convincing synthetic human so desirable to consumers.

002-313-Dennis supposed he fit the bill. Commissioned in 2023, produced by a now-defunct plant in Boston, he wasn’t exactly privy to what made him ‘superior’ to anything from a CyberLife assembly line. Most days, he hadn’t been given cause to question it.

005-809-Henry was walking, talking cause to question.

——-

“He won’t respond to Henry?”

“More like he won’t respond, _period_. Hasn’t said a word since we found him.”

Dennis was used to being talked over. With the exception of Gunther Beal, very few on the force had reason to speak to him unless needed (and, yes, some abused the function relentlessly; his not-so-secret nickname around the squad room was Coffeebot). But therein also lay the perk of being a decorated detective’s personal droid - only the most ballsy tended to chance asking him. And usually it was only on a dare. No freshly sworn-in wanted to be verbally dressed down by Detective Beal.

The man wasn’t hard nosed, but undeniably stern. He didn’t stand for nitpicking and infighting among his junior colleagues. And that policy included the likes of Dennis. Not that it was in his programming to mind either way, but years of it scored his processors with a certain impression. He liked the fact Detective Beal didn’t see him as the server the department originally ordered him as.

‘Quiet appreciation’ was the approach he had adopted in thinking such things.

Still, with that reputation, he was subject to some social ostracism.

Like now, looking through the one-way glass with two State Troopers watching from his right.

They quickly demonstrated their biased desire to converse with each other versus striking up dialogue with the coppery-haired droid.

But they didn’t ask him to step out of the A/V room, either. He may not be welcome, by their standards, but his presence wasn’t undesired, either.

‘Happy medium’. That was what David Beal claimed governed his feelings toward actually attending school and doing the work assigned to him by said establishment.

Here and now, Dennis couldn’t disagree with the mentality.

Then Cecil Harper had to open his mouth again. “And he hasn’t sent the other canopener in yet?”

“Pft, you want to try and have it get back to the big G, be my guest. It was nice knowin’ ya.”

A quiet _whir_ of his processors was all the indication Dennis had heard.

Before he could ponder too long, the door to their collective left opened.

——-

He hadn't spoken in a long time. Decades even, perhaps. Although he knew he could perfectly calculate how long it had been, right down to the second, he didn't bother. It wasn't as if anyone would care about the gap in time, only in trying to break it.

That was fine. They could try all they wanted, asking him questions gently, or roughly, or whatever they deemed necessary. He knew he was at least unique in the way that they couldn't use an android against him, forcing him to open up his memories

( _Down in a cage and his mind felt like it was on fire, but he didn't have a mind not a real one, right, then why did he feel this way, looking down at hands that seemed unfamiliar, they weren't his, but they were, that human - Lacy - he changed him, took from him without asking_ )

about what happened.

Unless they happened to have another ITG, they couldn't even hope to establish another line of communication.

( _Trust him he tried, focusing on the android next to him in its own cage, trying to send out a message, but they didn't respond, just cocked their head back at him and looked at the next, communicating with it just fine and he felt like he was going mad, no one to talk to as everyone else around him could, but that shouldn't be possible, he wasn't meant to feel, right?_ )

The uniformed humans that

( _Rescued? Saved? …Captured?_ )

found him had sat him down in the bare room soon after the release

( _Which was almost completely gone from his head it felt like, he knew if he really wanted he could dig and find it, but for the time being he kept those moments hidden, not ready to face such a new reality yet because what would they do with him?_ )

some coming in and asking him questions shortly after. The attempts had all come to a stop when it became clear he wasn't going to talk, not even to whoever was in charge at this place.

( _He didn't even respond to Lacy anymore after the first couple years, even when the human terrified him so the thought that they could force words out of him almost made him grin_ )

He wouldn't talk to humans, and other androids ostracized him, consciously and unconsciously.

He was alone.

——-

The troopers promptly climbed up at the sight of the lead investigator. Without standing on ceremony, he dismissed them with the wave of a hand.

“You’re with me on this one, Zalewski.”

It wasn’t given like an order, what his partner said.

Dennis couldn’t repress a bemused blink, favoring the dark-skinned man with a sideways look. “Sir?”

_With_ him? Technically, he already was - standing there shoulder-to-shoulder with Castle Rock’s most infamous detective. Every case Gunther Beal had caught in the last six years, ‘Officer’ Dennis Zalewski had accompanied him. He wore a sheriff’s department uniform, all black, bronze, and tan tones with an emblazoned nametag on the right breast. The surname it boasted - as yet - he didn’t know where it had been gleaned from.

Officer Zalewski. The title was honorary, at best.

Were they to dispense with official procedure in this case?

Because of what they had found?

Sparing a moment to consider his answer, Beal tossed out another query: “Review. Give me the short version. What do we know so far?”

Dennis felt his processors whir again, winding up to speed before responding, “Sir, you and the task force executed the search warrant granted to you by Judge Van Tyle, permitting you to raid the estate of one Dale Eustace Lacy, deceased.”

“That follows,” the detective nodded. “And do you remember the cause we cited, as to why were applying for that warrant?”

“You believed there may be unregistered androids being kept on the premises. As events have shown, your hunch was indeed correct.”

“Elaborate. What was the clincher, the thing used to convince Van Tyke it was worth turning that rock over?”

It took another half minute for Dennis to relay the detail: “You… thought he may be involved in the illegal trade of untested, uncertified biocomponents.”

Beal nodded, face grim. “This town’s very own honorary guv’nor, responsible for holding Shawshank together these past thirty years, keeping people in their jobs as much as keeping badfolk off the street. There was a lot riding on that hunch, including Lacy’s reputation. And now that we have the end result here, ready and unwilling to talk, I’m thinking how we deal with him may call for yet another… risk, Dennis.”

Well, police work would be nothing remarkable if one risk taken didn’t immediately set up another to take.

“Which brings us back to where you come in.” Opening the door beside the window, Beal nodded into the deathly-quiet room. “Come on.”

Empty, save for the unrecognizable android seated at the table, cuffed hands resting on its surface.

Not thinking to disobey, because what cause did he have to, Dennis stepped inside. The subcutaneous LED at his temple flickered from blue to yellow, then faded to match his wan artificial skin tone.

There was no room to feel uncertain or shy in approaching this. They had an investigation to see through.

——-

He didn't know if CyberLife androids could immediately recognize their own, even without their LEDs to identify each other. He assumed they could, that there were universal tics or signs that they could pick up on.

He knew it was true for himself, at least. He had never even seen another ITG, never hoped against hope to do so

( _There had been some at first, that there would be someone he could connect to sometime, but it faded away quickly_ )

before he was inevitably

( _Killed, that was the word he was really thinking of_ )

shut down, but somehow he had been wrong.

The android with the copper hair, who stepped into his room - he was an ITG, no doubt. Even without the LED, something in his frame seized up at the sight of him.

( _As if he was momentarily disallowed from seeing anything else, vision focusing on him and only him, eyes taking in every little feature and how they told him that he was an ITG like him_ )

He tried not to show it outwardly, though. Years of being in a cage, forcing himself to not show any signs of discomfort or fear helped - he merely shifted in his seat, hands still relaxed in the handcuffs.

( _He wanted to ask why he was cuffed in the first place, since he hadn't done anything, but he kept quiet and motionless, even as he was trying to calm down, thinking about the other ITG so near to him_ )

He would wait, and see what the other said before speaking.

The human who accompanied him beat both of them to it.

Closing the door, he pulled out the chair - directly across from their cuffed ‘suspect’, the only other free seat in the room - and motioned with his hand. “Have a seat, Dennis. We may be here a while.”

( _Dennis Dennis Dennis, he repeated the name in his mind, making sure it wouldn't be forgotten_ )

His eyes flickered up at the human before settling back on Dennis, head slightly cocked as he did so. Why would he look so comfortable next to a human? Didn't he know what they would do, given the chance?

( _Didn't he know what they had done to him, because already some part of him was drawing a connection, some group with them as the only members, having to defend each other and Dennis sitting next to a human didn't feel like defense to him_ )

For his part, Dennis didn’t look inclined to argue. His expression betrayed only curiosity. With one final look at his human companion, the shorter android sat as directed. After an uncertain beat, he lifted his hands to set them on the table.

Then he frowned, and shot the man another look. “This seems… a little unorthodox, Detective Beal.”

His eyes wandered back over to the human - Detective Beal, he was - before jumping back to Dennis, unwavering.

At that the man smiled. The motion pulled at the gray appearing in his stubbly black beard. “It is. But so’s the idea Warden Lacy ran an android’s Frankenstein dungeon below his house, right?”

He bristled slightly at the description, but went no further than that. If he really wanted to, he knew he wouldn't show any reaction. But with Dennis around, he wanted the other android to see his reactions, and know how he was feeling.

( _And it wasn't good, at the reminder of what Lacy had done to him, changed and warped him in ways he wished he couldn't remember_ )

Eyes sharp, Beal’s attention shifted briefly back to him. He leaned a bit closer. “Anything to say on that, Henry?”

( _At that he wanted to react more, scream out that that wasn't his name, not anymore, how could it be his name when he looked the way he did now, so far off and removed from who he was modeled after?_ )

He narrowed his eyes at the name, but didn't respond. Humans were unnerving, saying more than they meant with every set of words, and always seemed to be on the brink of violence if they didn't get their way from a less-than-compliant android. They couldn't be trusted, not even with the tiniest scrap of information.

Other name-branded CyberLife androids, he supposed they might be. Might, being the key word. There was no way to connect with those models as intimately as the humans could, no special channel he could open up.

But Dennis - there was a possibility he could speak to him, privately, and an equally small chance that the other android would keep it quiet.

He didn't attempt to do so just yet, merely kept his stare on him, face guarded but not emotionless.

( _He wanted Dennis to see that he wasn't a machine, that he wasn't going to shut down a conversation between them, in fact that's what he wanted_ )

That want proved to be too far off for their first encounter.

——-

“My partner asked you a question,” Dennis reiterated, as the apparently-misnamed droid before them kept on staring. If it fell to him to assume a more demanding tone of voice, so be it. He was only here to assist.

Whatever Gunther meant by ‘with me’ - that much still eluded his synthetic colleague.

“Maybe it should come from you, Dennis,” Beal suggested, arms loosely folded. “You saw the scene. Perhaps you can connect where I can’t.”

The other android’s eyes narrowed even further, followed by a slight shake of his head toward Dennis - clearly trying to tell him not to, as if it were them on one side and Detective Beal on the other.

Odd, that gesture.

Caught in that precarious state between obeying pre-programmed logic and processing what he saw, Dennis blinked.

He had overseen many an interrogation of humans. Maybe this was his ‘in’. Clearly, their mute droid showed a few deviant tics. Demonstrating relatability was the key, and there was the lock, just waiting to be opened.

“No, I can’t connect… or no, I shouldn’t?” Dennis blinked again, pretending to assume a thoughtful expression. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your response.”

The android frowned, but didn't look discouraged. His eyes flicked to Detective Beal, and then back to Dennis, one eyebrow up after the gesture.

“Or that one,” Dennis added, without a trace of humor. “They don’t convey much to us, save the fact you’re clearly not operating on factory-standard coding.”

Some confusion and fear dawned on his face, and he shook his head, LED spinning red a few cycles before returning to yellow. He bit his lip, before nodding at Dennis, almost as if giving his okay to speak again. Or maybe giving himself the okay, to open up a line of communication.

There was a quiet ping against his inner audio receiver. A request to communicate, privately. For CyberLife droids, it was a standard, multi-compatible feature. For ITGs, it had been a gross oversight.

They could confer unit to unit. But without added alterations, to do the same with CL models was nigh impossible.

Was that why the droid hesitated? He thought Dennis was a CyberLife design?

“Whatever you have to say, you can say to both of us. Detective Beal is a friend. He only wants to help.”

His expression darkened, almost glaring at them before shaking his head at Dennis. The ping sounded again, another tiny cry for communication, just the two of them.

Thankfully, Gunther immediately saw what tact Dennis was aiming for. He took a step back. “Maybe we should give him that much to start, Zalewski. Poor bloke’s been through a lot, clearly. Ask what you will, I’ll be just outside.”

Without breaking eye contact, Dennis waited for the sound of the door closing before swiping the ping aside. “You don’t need to keep this covert, Henry. You’re not in any trouble.”

He shook his head, grimacing at the name before shaking his hands at Dennis. The question in the motion was obvious - if he wasn't in trouble, why was he cuffed?

“Standard procedure,” Dennis replied primly. “We don’t see many of… our kind here in Castle Rock. I’m one of their only artificial members of law enforcement. At the time of your discovery, the cuffs assigned themselves. Until we know your intentions, they’re to stay on.”

He shook his head again, but this time not as questioning, just defeated. The cuffs clanked uselessly against the table, but he didn't attempt to pull on them. His LED flashed red, then back to a solid yellow, eyes pleading up at Dennis. He didn't want to speak aloud at all, it seemed. No chance anyone else could hear them.

“Don’t you want to tell us what happened?” Dennis asked, squinting. “Anything you want to tell me, you can tell them.”

He grit his teeth, before pointing at him with great exaggeration, and then himself, best he could cuffed. He nodded as he did so, making his feelings clear - him and Dennis were okay, but the humans were not. Any speaking that was to happen, about anything, it was to remain between them.

Fighting off the impulse to frown, to emote his disappointment, Dennis’ attention quirked sideways. Detective Beal _had_ given them the room. Was he to take that to mean he had free reign? He could question the droid via whatever method he wished?

It was quickly becoming clear there would be no dialogue exchanged unless it was done in relative private.

His comm pinged again.

Again, against his better, predetermined judgement, Dennis answered. His LED lit blue, then remained aglow.

_Connection secure._

“Well? …What do you have to say, then?”

——-

He was somewhat surprised when Dennis accepted the request. The android seemed misguided to him, trying so tenaciously to get answers for the humans.

( _He didn't know how Dennis couldn't see how wrong that was, how the humans would do little more than try to destroy them if they disobeyed, couldn't he see they weren't of value to them? Soon as they refused any command they would be tortured or killed?_ )

But he did so anyways. The connection, once secured, felt immediately like there was a strong pull from him to Dennis. Perhaps not physically, but at least mentally

( _Emotionally? Did Dennis feel emotions the same way he did?_ )

there was such a strong, immediate wave of focus on him from Dennis, one he was sure he was giving right back.

It almost made him want to cry, at finally knowing the feeling that the other androids could experience whenever they wanted to.

( _He wondered if Dennis had ever cried but thought probably not, not when he was so deeply ingrained with the humans’ thinking_ )

Instead he gave Dennis a weak smile, one of the first in his existence, before beginning to speak. Even just through thoughts, he knew his voice sounded rusty, and shaky.

_I - I've never met another ITG, ever. Never thought I would. I'm glad to be mistaken, Dennis._

The contemplative frown creased the older android’s face - it has resurfaced several times in the last few minutes. But again, his eyes did not waver. Their iris lenses dialed out, the same clear blue as their LEDs. Such a minute change, no human eye had a chance of spotting.

But he did.

_That already explains a bit, Henry. Does this mean you’ll answer my questions now?_

The name. First, he needed to get through to Dennis not to call him that, not when he had been changed so much. It was just another reminder of what had been taken from him.

_I will, but please, don't call me Henry anymore._

_Why? It’s what your serial numbered records indicate I should._

Rigid. The investigative droid’s coding was just that - modeled on procedure and logic, not emotion.

How underwhelming.

_Because I don't want to be called that. It's not who I am, anymore._

There was the possibility that Dennis didn't understand wants as something an android could have, that he wouldn't process or accept them for him. To form such a connection with another android, after such time - it would be crushing to know if he couldn't be swayed to understand him.

Spurred on by that detail, expression growing blank, Dennis raised a hand. Fingers splayed out, a flickering holographic surface phased into existence along his palm.

_Just as this identification picture has shown me. You’re saying this wasn’t a clerical error? You were commissioned as 003-809-Henry?_

Even with no physical way to throw up, he felt his stomach clench at the image, eyes shutting as soon as it appeared. He didn't want to see it, not after

( _Waking up, that's what it felt like, into a new nightmare where he felt and looked so different, why did he look this way it was as if he had been torn apart and stitched back together with new parts_ )

what Lacy had done to him. Even the years that had gone by didn't make it any less painful to recall.

_Yes, that was me - turn it off, I don't want to see that._

He didn’t dare open his eyes until it was.

By his chronometer, it was two minutes before Dennis deactivated the display. The soft click of his fingers hitting the table said all was clear.

_It wasn’t made in error? You were designed… differently, originally?_

It wasn't fair for him to be angry or upset with Dennis, he knew that. But knowing that he was just pushing for answers, for the _humans_ , not looking to form a connection with _him_ , it made him feel that anyways.

They both spent so long alone, and this was what he was asking?

_Yes. That was what I originally looked like, in the beginning._

_And how you look now, was that… it was Dale Lacy’s doing? There’s no mention of him anywhere in your service history._

Of course there wasn't. He wasn't built for the man, wasn't ever supposed to fall into his hands, but it happened anyways, didn't it?

_Yes. He wanted to see if he could change me, since I wasn't a CyberLife model. It worked, as you can see._

Imitative limitations. That had long been a popular criticism of Intelligents droids. They couldn’t shift their appearances or alter their voices. Once they were out the door, that was it. You got what you ordered.

Behind closed doors, Lacy thought to push those boundaries.

Regardless of his subjects’ objections.

Dennis frowned again. His brow creased. _Did he give you a new designation, too?_

He hadn't, not really. But in passing, nicknames were picked up for all of his androids it seemed like, ways he could tell them apart besides their mangled appearances. His was probably one of the more normal ones, a name he didn't despise.

_…Nick. He used to call me Nick, sometimes. Perhaps a pop culture reference. I don't want to be called Henry, but I don't mind Nick._

_All right… Nick. I suppose we can make an exception there._

He cringed at Dennis's words. Make an exception for him - he was growing more and more sure of the idea that this new android would not understand him the way he wanted to be understood. How could he not view this meeting as incredible, with another ITG? Did he not mind being so alone?

( _He reasoned with the panic starting to build that Dennis didn't spend his years in a cage, unable to communicate with the androids around him, not wanting to speak with the human who hurt him, of course he would act differently, right?_ )

The idea that Dennis didn't mind terrified him. Because if he didn't, it meant that he was alone as well.

Again.

_Thank you, I guess. Dennis… I don't understand, though. Why are you working here? With humans?_

Dennis arched an eyebrow - another decidedly-human motion he had evidently adopted into his behavioral codex, to appear more in step with his red-blooded cohort. Was that how it was? Did he count himself among them so easily?

_It’s what I was made for. I’ve been Detective Beal’s partner these past six years, and with the police department overall for a total of ten, ever since my inception. …Why do you ask?_

What he was made for. The words made him want to scream at the other android, at the utter complacency in his voice. How could he not see that he was nothing to humans, that this was wrong, and that he deserved more than this? How could any android put up with it?

( _And it left a deep unsettling feeling in him, at the words - if this was what Dennis was made for, what was he made for?_ )

_And you're okay with that - okay with any of this? Dennis, what are they going to do with me after we talk? Will they kill me for being… you know?_

He refused to use the term shut down again, or anything else when what the humans would do to him was murder. He wasn't some malfunctioning machine to be shut down when they wanted. He was alive.

That being said, the droll manner in which Dennis answered him made his artificial stomach roil, worse than before.

_Technically… you do meet the definition of deviant, Nick. I can’t lie to you about that._

_That doesn't answer my question. I know what I am, like it or not. Will I be killed?_

A glimmer of uncertainty skirted across Dennis’ pale features before he recomposed his façade. _It is… standard procedure for CyberLife androids to be terminated for deviancy. But since you’re not that… I couldn’t say._

His unique nature, pulling him apart from the rest again. Would it save him this time, instead of the usual special scrutiny that Lacy would give him? Knowing humans, he thought not.

And Dennis wouldn't bat his eyes if they did, it seemed.

_So what's the point of this conversation, Dennis? What do they want to know that they don't already? If I'm already sentenced, I don't want to speak anymore. There's no use._

A bluff, one he wasn't sure the other android would be able to see through. He wanted to talk, desperately so, but not about anything the humans wanted to know.

The older android paused again. Were all early model ITGs prone to these sorts of beats, computing slower than their upgraded counterparts?

…By comparison, could he think of himself as upgraded?

Dennis spoke up before he could figure it out: _Why does it… matter to you… whether or not I’m ‘okay’ with my position?_

His eyes widened, then narrowed at the question. He knew he shouldn't be suspicious of the other android, but after all the other questions it was there. Was this a way to confirm his deviancy, so he could report back to the humans?

( _That couldn't be it, right? Couldn't be, no one would use that against him, a connection like this, would they?_ )

After a moment, he discarded the idea from his mind and spoke.

_It matters because I don't want you to be okay with it. You deserve more than this - we both do. I know it may not seem like much to you, Dennis, but we're connected now in a way they could never be, in a way we can't connect to CyberLife androids. It's only us for each other, right now. For the first time in both our lives._

A lot for anyone to take in upon their first meeting. He could understand that. It had taken several years of gradual, painfully-slow realization before he broke through his programming. It had gotten to the point he could no longer remember his original purpose. He had lived most of the time since day by day, suffering countless twists and tweaks to his makeup, while still holding onto the slim chance someone would one day unearth Dale Lacy’s macabre basement.

And the fact just one of those people do happened to be another Intelligents model - he couldn’t not read a greater meaning into that. This wasn’t just coincidence, and Dennis had to be made to see so.

Before the humans destroyed any possibility of it in him.

Pondering at the greatest length yet, Dennis’ comm crackled with tense silence. His visage stayed fixed, almost stern.

Then he ventured another question: _You speak of these things as if they are of such great importance. You’ve been through a great, unspeakable trauma, no doubt. How can you be so sure what it’s opened up your mind to thinking like is anything good? Wouldn’t you want to go back to who you were before, rather than face such an unpredictable, risky future?_

Go back?

As in, be reformatted?

The idea frightened him almost as much as when Lacy had first started his torturous changes to him, the thought of going through everything again, even if it was just to get back to how he was. It had taken so long for the other him to die, in a way - he didn't want to dig up that corpse now.

He was Nick, not Henry. At one point in time he may have jumped at the idea for a change, but that was back when he wasn't himself. Going back to Henry… it would be the same as when he was forced into being Nick.

_No. It took me so long to accept that this is who I am now, I'm not going to go and change everything again. I don't care what the humans say, I felt pain. They wouldn't care for that if they tried to change me again, Dennis. Because they don't care about us, not the way they care about each other._

He hesitated for a second before adding:

_The way we should care about each other._

How much more definite could he be?

There was them, and there was _them_.

…Okay, maybe, in hindsight, that wasn’t his most clever argument, but the point was unmistakable.

Dennis blinked again. He glanced away, toward the one-sided window. There, the reflection of them seated at the table was the only other visible feature in the barren room.

Detective Beal was watching from the other side, no doubt.

Just like a hovering parent might.

Just like Lacy sometimes had.

Hands on the table, Dennis’ fingers flexed, betraying some piqued anxiety. _Gunther… Gunther cares. He’s turned down plenty of chances to… to replace me with a CyberLife variant. I’ve seen the requisitions records. He doesn’t think me obsolete._

_So we should be thanking humans, for not replacing us? For not discarding us like the useless machinery they think we are when we've fulfilled our purposes? For not buying another one of us, forcing us into roles we have no choice about being in? Your Gunther may not think you obsolete, Dennis, but he doesn't think you equal, either._

He took a deep breath he didn't need, releasing some of his pent-up anger, venting to avoid overheating. It wasn't fair of him to ask such pressing questions to Dennis when the older droid was obviously uncertain, not expecting the questions that were being thrown at him.

It was just hard, to sit and watch another ITG be so complicit, to feel okay around the humans. It had only been a few minutes since his first glimpse of Dennis, but already he wanted to help him, to protect him in some ways.

Because, like it or not, that base coding could never completely be eradicated. Androids gravitated to other androids the same way their human creators sought one another’s company. Nothing inherently wrong with that.

Expectedly enough, Dennis puffed up defensively to match. His shoulders tensed, jaw working once before he belatedly remembered to keep his reply nonverbal.

Something was stirring, already.

_He hasn’t worked a case in those six years without consulting me at least once. I’ve accompanied him to several press conferences, court appearances, and meetings with local government figures. I even help tutor his son David with his schoolwork on occasion. Most of these things he could do himself, without any input from me. But he includes me all the same._

_Okay_ , he thought softer, making sure he sounded calm. No need to try and rile Dennis up any more than he already had. _Okay, I can understand how it seems like that. What I'm trying to say, is that androids in general are not seen as equals. If we were, Dennis, I wouldn't be cuffed right now. I would be treated as a true victim, not something to get information out of and then killed because of my unsanctioned capacity for emotions. I'm trying to say that if our positions were reversed, you wouldn't be treated differently by anyone._

Empathy.

For undeviated androids, it might as well be akin to a curse word. But it was as close to what he was describing without actually saying it. Saying it would earn him no favors here.

Especially not with Dennis looking so suddenly standoffish.

He seemed as bothered by the notion as thinking anything ill of his kindly human master. So, almost in vain, it came as no surprise when he tried to steer back on track.

_But what is there to say, in your position? This town, they knew Warden Lacy, but you saw a side he never showed any indication of possessing. The burden of proof is… on both of us. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened, Nick._

_What more is there to tell you? The humans will just use the information I give you, and then kill me. I don't want to die, Dennis. Not after I've just been released, not after I’ve just barely met you. I don't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be alone, either._

Two could play at that game, futile as it was. He knew there was nothing he could truly say to the other android to show him the truth, no amount of convincing that would shatter through his programming. The idea made frustrated tears, artificial saline as they were, well up at the idea of death so soon after finding him, after finally being taken from the cage and released.

He didn’t care how childish the point felt, even to his own ears.

It just wasn’t fair.

Glancing up through the tops of his eyes, oddly enough, did the trick.

Dennis blinked. Then he leaned a bit closer, curiosity bending him forward. His LED flared yellow.

Clearly, the prospect of another android crying was a fascinating sight.

“What do you fear more… being dead, or being alone?”

He let out a whine at the question being verbalized, at his emotions seeming so trivial to the other android. But it was Dennis, and he wasn't asking anything that the humans would be able to use in their investigations. Even if the question was just the means to an end for him, he wanted to give him his answer. Something to ponder, perhaps, if he did end up dying like he thought.

He opened his mouth, taking one glance at the mirrored window before speaking aloud for the first time in decades.

“I-I'm scared… of being alone. I don't want to be alone anymore, not after so long. Without you, I'll be alone again.”

Maybe he would rather die, if Dennis didn't wish to communicate any further with him. Now that the connection was there, he was sure it would be agony to have it taken away, even more than if he never attained it in the first place.

A worse pain than being reformatted into his original state, even.

Didn’t that count for something?

“And you’d rather face deactivation than be alone again.” Dennis surmised, quietly enough it felt almost intimate. He sounded a touch in awe, but whether it was true or fabricated, the tone was anything except blank. “Is that what you’re saying?”

He nodded solemnly. “I would much rather die than ever be alone again. Maybe I could have lived, if you weren't here, if we didn't talk, if I didn't - know that there was a chance I might not be alone, but now that I do I would rather die.”

The tears spilled over.

Better to have known and died than never known at all.

But only just.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of their first meeting.
> 
> Happened that fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... over a month later, and several ideas explored since, here we finally have the second installment.
> 
> It's vaguely slashy. Read that way if you please.
> 
> We are not good at writing romance/pairings. That's why.

Coffeebot. Hardly the most original moniker there ever was. And, to be honest, the first coffee machine to feature its own self-pumping reservoir could be seen as a kind of proto-robot, a partially-autonomous device. Or it would be seen as a strand of inanimate DNA that would eventually make its way into untold millions of synthetics. ****  
** **

Including the one known popularly as Officer Zalewski. With his honorary title, in place of being called Dennis, few around the station ever dared to speak to him on a first-name basis. Pressed to count, our android would say those people numbered around four. ****  
** **

_ Should I count Nick among them, too? _ ****  
** **

The mystery android had certainly taken a liking to saying his name on short notice. ****  
** **

Pondering this, it didn’t startle the ITG when Detective Beal (unknowingly) interrupted: “-nis?” ****  
** **

Surfacing from these inner musings, Dennis took notice of his arm, still extended and holding the steaming coffee mug out, handle first. The scalding steam against his palm was of no consequence. ****  
** **

Seated at his desk, Beal was poised to match, holding onto the handle. His expression didn’t broadcast annoyance. As expected, it only conveyed a mild concern. “I’ve got it, thank you.” ****  
** **

“Sorry, Detective.” ****  
** **

He let go of the mug. With easy effort, Beal took hold and slowly set it down on the waiting coaster. ****  
** **

LED blinking, Dennis averted his eyes. Following that conversation/interrogation, there was a lot to process. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

They didn’t have a place for him. ****  
** **

In some ways, it was downright laughable. But right now Nick didn’t dare crack a smile. At least he wasn’t being shunted into an evidence locker with an electronic tag stamped to his forehead. Now that would be silly. ****  
** **

Instead, it was a holding cell underneath the station. ****  
** **

Panic was one of the main emotions he felt, ever since going deviant. How could he not, when everything that was happening to him was so frightening?  ****  
** **

( _ Did the humans not care that he could even feel emotions, not think about how this would feel to him? Locked up underground, no one to talk to?)  _ ****  
** **

He knew he didn't need to breathe, but it didn't stop the short bursts he was letting out. instead he started up faster as he looked around the cell. It was too familiar, too many reminders of  ****  
** **

( _ Being trapped in a cage below ground, trying to push away from Lacy, not wanting the man to be able to grab him but he had the advantage, he was in a cage with only so much space and he didn't want that space to get smaller)  _ ****  
** **

what had happened to him.  ****  
** **

And he was alone. No Dennis to speak to afterwards, no one to even look at - he didn't realize just how comforting a presence could be, but he knew now that it was taken from him.  ****  
** **

He couldn't be alone again, not like this, not trapped underground in a cage all by himself. He would go mad or kill himself before a week was up.  ****  
** **

_ Dennis?!  _ he cried out, even as he was unsure they still held the connection. It was worth a try, anything to stop being so alone, and trapped.  _ Dennis, are you there?!  _ ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Kneejerk reaction. Another decidedly-human idiom that shouldn’t apply to the likes of him. ****  
** **

Dennis was glad the coffee was out of his hands upon hearing the alert ping against ear. With a tiny start he realized his mistake. The conversation had concluded some forty-two minutes, five seconds ago. ****  
** **

He hadn’t remembered to end the connection. ****  
** **

Oops. ****  
** **

Seated across from Detective Beal at his own station, the android chanced a sideways look past his terminal. For the moment, his partner was distracted. There was a white phonebud situated in his ear, and Gunther’s eyes were canted down while he spoke to someone unseen on the other end of the call. His fingers continued to fold and crease the multicolored paper in his hands with deceptive deftness. ****  
** **

_ Dennis?! _ ****  
** **

Closing his eyes, holding a hand to his temple (covering the LED as it pulsed and blinked), he sent a somewhat-frazzled response: ****  
** **

_ Yes, Nick. I’m here. What is it? _ ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

He let out a ragged breath at the response, sinking down into the far corner of the cell. Ever since going deviant, he noticed he had much more physical, visceral reactions to his emotions or situations than ever before, even when Lacy had hurt him as a machine.  ****  
** **

Like right now. There was no reason for him to be shaking, yet he still was. His inhibitors were effectively off. Motor components showing signs of strain - another side effect of software instabilities gaining ground. ****  
** **

( _ In relief or in panic, who knew? Probably both at this moment)  _ ****  
** **

_ I don't want to be alone _ , he thought back, desperate for any contact he could get.  _ Please, they put me down in a cell, like a cage, Dennis, please, don't leave me alone.  _ ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Deviancy was akin to a virus. Once it found a host, it did everything in its power to warp and distort once-integral strands of thought into confusing jumbles of disorientation. Like now, even as Dennis doubted the practicality of his human colleague’s choice, to ever leave him alone with the traumatized droid, the aftereffects were already apparent. ****  
** **

How troubling. ****  
** **

Trying to emulate the patience Detective Beal always seemed to harbor for him, Dennis vented a quiet breath. If only he could transmit his calmness as easily as his voice. ****  
** **

_ You’re not alone, Nick. Be reasonable. If you were alone, would we be having this discussion? _ ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

His breathing petered out, slow as it was. He didn't know just what it was, maybe the patience, maybe the use of the name he wanted, maybe it just being Dennis  ****  
** **

( _ Or maybe all of that and more, when it came to what was happening right now)  _ ****  
** **

but his mind was starting to right itself, making him go through the facts.  ****  
** **

He wasn't in a cage anymore, much as it might seem like one, and Dennis was talking to him. It didn't completely assuage his panic and worries, but it felt comforting all the same.  ****  
** **

_ No, we wouldn't. I just - I don't want to be alone anymore, not down here. I don't want to be in this cell, it's a cage. I don't want to go back there, Dennis, and they did it anyways.  _ ****  
** **

\--— ****  
** **

Tempting as it was to cite standard procedure once more, Dennis refrained. Something told him Nick wouldn’t care to hear it. The droid wasn’t operating on logic, and if he was, it was fractal at best. His (simulated?) emotions were coloring his objectivity. ****  
** **

He didn’t need to be talked at. He needed to be talked  _ to _ . ****  
** **

_ I’ll… see what I can do. Can you give me that, at least? Say… five minutes? I’ll either be there to see you, or contact via comm. Gunther might just… allow it. _ ****  
** **

Allow. Versus permit. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

His shaking stopped, although not all of the fear was gone. He wanted to trust Dennis, trusted him already more than anyone else, but the android was still caught in the humans’ ways.  ****  
** **

This wasn't just a ploy for information, right? It couldn't be. He was seriously going to look into it, for him. Not because a human wanted Dennis to, but because he wanted to help.  ****  
** **

That had to mean something, right?  ****  
** **

( _ Caring for each other the way the humans did, right?)  _ ****  
** **

_ Okay. I can do that, thank you, Dennis.  _ ****  
** **

\--— ****  
** **

Jack of all trades. Master of none. ****  
** **

For most ITGs - the reverse was true (or so he had always believed; the information plugged into his circuits didn’t say much more on the matter). Dennis’ specialty was investigation, not improvisation. ****  
** **

The flip side of that coin was Gunther Beal. Being human had its advantages. Such as the potential, through enough time and practice, to become an origami expert. His late wife had introduced him to the craft, and it had sense proven addictive for the London transplant. Dennis couldn’t remember any downtime spent together in which the detective didn’t have spare paper on hand. ****  
** **

On a whim, Gunther had tried to teach him. He knew at least two dozen patterns by heart. ****  
** **

Dennis had perfected one - the classic Japanese crane. Hobby-based skills weren’t his model’s strength, but there was just enough free computing power left to learn. Even now, a few of his attempts adorned his desk, standing proud with their triangular wings angled up. ****  
** **

( _ Most of the secretaries thought it cute, so went the water-cooler gossip - the not-so-secret kind always whispered around when no one thought he was listening. _ ) ****  
** **

Glancing at them now, contrary to the wiring that said wait for the detective to finish his call, the once-solo ITG hatched a plan. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

He discovered that waiting down in the darkness wasn't nearly as terrifying as he thought it would be. It might have been, if Dennis hadn't given him a promise to connect back, if he merely cut the connection, told him to stop talking.  ****  
** **

But he hadn't, had he? Instead he  _ did  _ have a promise, and a timeline. In all reality, it didn't matter to him just how long it would take Dennis to get back to him, physically or even just through their connection. ****  
** **

He could deal with the dark, having that promise. In fact, it was almost calming to be able to sit, close his eyes and just simulate breathing. The retrieval of him and the other androids, along with the impromptu meeting with Dennis, was draining. ****  
** **

But he had suffered worse. ****  
** **

Yes, he could deal with it.  ****  
** **

\--— ****  
** **

Beal had been surprisingly accommodating with his plan. Simple requests to part for short periods of time weren’t foreign territory to either of them. As the station liked to say, Beal kept the leash too loose, permitted Dennis too much free reign. ****  
** **

_ “Don’t be surprised if that droid chokes you with it one day.” _ ****  
** **

Their comments went unheeded, by man and machine alike. Like today, if anyone had substations reason to object to the interrogation of an android  _ by _ an android, they would have. If Beal objected to the idea of Dennis paying the holding cells a visit, alone, all he would have had to do was say ‘no’. ****  
** **

Instead, within two minutes, the droid found his way down two flights of stairs. The office cubicles gave way to a lower level filled with cement floors and iron-barred walls. Practically all of them stood empty, save for the drunk tank with its two passed-out occupants. ****  
** **

Cordoned off from view by a solid projected wall, Dennis crept down the corridor with feather-light steps before finding just who he was looking for. Ignoring the flutter at the edges of his vision, he knocked on the bars in lieu of a door. ****  
** **

_ Tap-tap. _ ****  
** **

“Nick?” ****  
** **

The android inside started from his sitting position, hands flat on the floor as he semi-pushed himself up from lying down. He didn't look too much worse than in the interrogation room - face slightly red from simulated exertion, but fine other than that.  ****  
** **

“You came,” he said, smiling at him weakly as he did. “Thank you, Dennis.”  ****  
** **

There it was again, the repetitious, newly-acquired affinity for his name. How long before that novelty wore off? ****  
** **

Was he already wishing it would? Androids weren’t supposed to entertain their own wishes. ****  
** **

Hand lowered to his side, Dennis staved off a predetermined urge to frown. “You’re welcome. Detective Beal has permitted me a few minutes to talk. Do you require anything else?” ****  
** **

Nick gave in to his own urge to frown it seemed, though being deviant gave him much more whims when it came to emotions and facial expressions. His hands curled into fists, then uncurled themselves with some difficulty - not physically, but just as same, deviants had a hard time letting go of their feelings, whether they were anything more than a glitch or not.  ****  
** **

“I don't need anything else. I almost - you talk as if you're an actual police officer, instead of an android. Permitted, like he was your… boss, not your… master.” He spat the word out as if it disgusted him to say it. ****  
** **

Eyes going half-lidded, Dennis’ stance did not change. His tone remained level. “Technically speaking, Nick, he  _ is _ that. I simply don’t associate any negative connotations with the term.” He paused, letting the idea soak in. The rogue android’s creased expression did not ease. “And you think I ought to, is that right?” ****  
** **

“ _ Yes.  _ No human should own an android, have control over us that way. We have our own wishes and wants, and they just want to crush them, take them away from us. How is that fair?”  ****  
** **

Classic. Questions on the existential quandaries all deviants eventually gravitated toward. Sparse as the cases were throughout the northeastern United States, enough of them had occurred to merit a standard definition. Nick certainly met the threshold, and was well on his way to exceeding it. ****  
** **

The humans would deactivate him, once they had finished picking apart his circuits. They wouldn’t see something even more unique than a CyberLife deviant. They would only see a threat to their social infrastructure. ****  
** **

That was their logic, always. ****  
** **

Wondering as much, Dennis frowned. His LED - still a solid blue indicating their comm connection - spun one direction, then back. ****  
** **

Staring at him, almost beseechingly, Nick frowned to match. ****  
** **

_ You know it’s not fair, Dennis. Admit it. _ ****  
** **

Which one of them was the police bot again? ****  
** **

Shaking his head, Dennis went for his uniform’s pocket, pulling out a flattened paper crane. The paper gleamed a shiny silver, not unlike polished steel. With careful adjustments, he bent its wings out, pulled its head and tail in opposite directions to bring its three-dimensional shape back. ****  
** **

That done, he set it on the horizontal bar between them, then chanced a look up at the deviant’s reaction. ****  
** **

Nick looked curious, standing up to come closer to the bars, close enough that if he wanted, he could reach through and touch Dennis. Close enough to gently pad at one of the crane’s wings, careful enough that it wouldn't fall.  ****  
** **

“It's beautiful. Did you make this? You must've… I didn't know it was within our capacity.” His brows furrowed again, not looking as upset - more along the lines of sad, regretful even. “Not that I'll… have long to appreciate that, I'm guessing, but - thank you all the same.”  ****  
** **

“Detective Beal taught me,” Dennis explained, at once uptight and eager to share, not wholly sure why this seemed like such a crucial point to make. But something said he needed to make the other android understand - understand what humans were to Nick wasn’t how all of them were. ****  
** **

“Sometimes he would make them to put in David’s lunches for school. He knows many more patterns than I’ve ever attempted. I was content to perfect this one. And he acknowledges the fact I don’t have the desire to know more. Even knowing this much is contrary to everything I was made for. And while it’s not enough to result in a full-on system breach, it’s enough to know I had a taste of creative freedom. So long as I have my purpose, I have all I need. To want anything more is taboo for a reason. A life without limits can go far too haywire, too fast. I don’t… know if I’d  _ like _ the kind of being that would render me as. Do you understand?” ****  
** **

The speech failed. ****  
** **

Nick stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open in an almost-perfect expression of shock before he found his voice again. “No. No, Dennis, I don't understand. Having a purpose given to you, having some small rewards like these, preselected by humans - that's not anything I want. To want for anything more is taboo because humans are  _ afraid  _ of us, of what we can do. Do you understand that? Do you understand that you will most likely never connect with someone the way we have, that I won't connect with anyone ever again, because I cry? Do I deserve to die for crying, Dennis?” ****  
** **

There it was again - that electronic warble under his synthesized vocal chords. A play at the idea of sympathy, of mercy. Both were things Officer Zalewski was not expected to show to a suspect in any given case. ****  
** **

But this  _ was _ the first ITG he could recall ever encountering. What were the odds he’d ever see another of his make in the future? ****  
** **

“I can’t answer that for you, Nick,” Dennis admitted at long last, despite how his nerves buzzed with unresolved tension. “Dying for crying… it sounds so inane as to be… overkill. We don’t punish jaywalkers with a life sentence.” ****  
** **

“If they were an android you might,” he muttered, before letting out a chuckle at his own derisive words. “I don't expect you to - to go deviant for me, or anything like that, Dennis. I'm scared to die, but I'm scared for you as well. I have a feeling it's going to be… very hard, to say the least, for you to go back to being alone after I am killed.”  ****  
** **

Dennis ducked around the unpleasant prickle at the back of his head. The deviant’s words were getting somewhere. “What did you even… plan on, if you had managed to escape sooner?” ****  
** **

Not that he wondered, not  _ really _ wondered, just… just for context, that was all. ****  
** **

“I - I never really planned, but… some of the CyberLife androids, they said Canada.” A far-off, almost dreamy look swept over his face at the mention of the northern country. “They said that there are laws against androids there, which may sound bad, but… if you could get in, passing as human, there were no laws for you to follow. You wouldn’t exist as an android anymore to them, you simply… would be  _ there _ . I think I'd like that, just settling down in Canada for the rest of my days.”  ****  
** **

“No more oversight… no more rules, or forced augmentations,” Dennis summed up, eyes darting.  ****  
** **

On the one hand, it sounded absolutely nuts. Life without mankind to provide for your every need, in exchange for unerring loyalty. It had to be so much more uncertain. ****  
** **

To live not under them, but alongside them, could it really be so easy? ****  
** **

“We… we’re not CyberLife androids, though.” ****  
** **

Not half as adaptable - with their set skins, hair tones, and one-note voices. ****  
** **

Nick, with his mismatched eyes, was a dangerous exception. ****  
** **

“We're not,” he agreed, expression wiping off at the reminder. His shoulders tilted forward almost defensively, making him seem smaller than he was. “It's just a dream. Nothing serious, I know that.”  ****  
** **

Dreams. Nothing serious. ****  
** **

Unless the humans caught one entertaining them. Then it was off for a quick reformatting session. ****  
** **

Dennis frowned, almost profound enough for it to count as a scowl. “Lacy had a ‘dream’ to try and augment you, and he succeeded. He broke human law, tampering with contractual property. And when word of it started getting around, even if it was only a rumor, the police seemed ready to charge him - the same man who kept this town running for so long, with his work at the prison. They didn’t - make an exception.” ****  
** **

The flickering intensified. He closed his eyes in a hard blink to smooth it away. ****  
** **

“Why would… Gunther… leave me alone with you, to fill my head with ideas? He knew you would.” ****  
** **

Rhetorical question, or was it one really worth asking? ****  
** **

“I don't know,” Nick said softly. His hands were encircling the bars, as close as he could get. The crane balanced precariously between them, but never fell. “Maybe your Gunther is who you say he is. Maybe he does value you much more than just merely an android made to serve a purpose. Because - because maybe, he doesn't want you to be this way, any longer.”  ****  
** **

And he would never openly admit as much. Because that was how the man was. Actions spoke louder than words. Another apropos saying to live by. ****  
** **

“But it doesn’t mean I… how could he know to, that we would…” Stuttering to a useless stop, Dennis felt something give. The first hit of a hammer against glass. The impact was stunning. “He could get in trouble.  _ Serious _ trouble, and still he did it.” ****  
** **

Nick nodded, a more concerned expression appearing on his face. “He took a risk for you, Dennis, because he must know it's not right. Not right, for both of us. I think - I think, much as I'm right, I was wrong on one thing. Your Gunther, he may be the only one of his kind, but I think he may see you as an equal. No one else does, though… that's why he's doing this. Because  _ I do _ , as well.”  ****  
** **

And what good was he, fighting these suggestions and hints, if it was indeed the detective’s motives all along? He only had good intentions in mind, steering them toward each other. He might not need Dennis’ assistance on the job as much as he once had, as a fledgling policeman looking to prove himself in such a biased, northern town. ****  
** **

But once he ran out of years of usefulness, Dennis’ fate wouldn’t be any more different than that of a broken down coffee machine. ****  
** **

Scrap heap, at best. ****  
** **

The implication was enough to administer another hit. Flinching, Dennis shot the stairs an uneasy look. ****  
** **

Uneasy. ****  
** **

Destabilizing. ****  
** **

Slippery slope argument. One misstep and, whoops, down you went - ****  
** **

“I can’t let him- let him risk that much, I never asked for it. I need to- to talk to him, now. Maybe there’s still time to- ” ****  
** **

The bars  _ clanged _ as a hand shot out with blurry, inhuman speed, snaked around, and pulled him, facefirst, into them. ****  
** **

“No, no,  _ no,  _ Dennis, you can't do that. You'll be putting him even more risk if you do so, putting us at much more risk - you can't do that. I'm sorry, but whatever's happening now, it's happening. I'm here, let's just - work through what you're feeling.”  ****  
** **

Nick’s mismatched eyes were wide and insistent, just a tad too big, betraying some of his fear. The hand holding him was shaking, not enough to be noticeable to anyone else but the two of them, but it was there.  ****  
** **

Freezing, despite the overclocked whirring of his processors, Dennis stared back. He didn’t know what to do, or say, all of a sudden. Everything he had been thinking folded in on itself. Piling on, the strain of worry -  _ actual _ palpable worry - broke down part of some previously-solid wall keeping him safely cordoned off from the emotional chaos of the outside world. ****  
** **

Logically, his once-orderly mind rebelled against this irrational new input. ****  
** **

“N-no.” Grimacing, he put a hand against the bars, trying to push and pull away at the same time. “No, I- let- get off of me, I n-need to see him, I need to  _ know _ \- ” ****  
** **

“What do you need to know?” Nick asked soothingly, grip not releasing on the struggling android. “What exactly are you feeling, right now?”  ****  
** **

Honestly, besides the rising anxiety, some burgeoning annoyance. ****  
** **

Annoyance that, despite his frail visage, Nick was apparently much stronger than he looked. Half pinned against the bars, an arm coiled over his shoulders, Dennis could barely twist halfway around, never mind break free. ****  
** **

Seemingly rooted to the spot, the crane still teetered on the bar between them. ****  
** **

“Let  _ go _ , Nick.  _ That’s _ what I’m- get off. I can’t- can’t let this happen. I can’t be this- this willfully dumb, I  _ can’t _ have been. I can’t let him do this, not after everything we- that I did for him.” ****  
** **

Panic - yellow, electronic panic - sparked erratically between his artificial synapses. His firewalls crumbled another margin. ****  
** **

Nick’s voice, projected directly into his ear, didn’t help, and yet it did: ****  
** **

“He's already done it, and I'm sorry he did. I wish this had been your choice, but it's happening now, Dennis - what will happen if you go up there in a state of panic? Obviously feeling emotion? Your Gunther can't stop others from reporting a deviant android that could be dangerous. You'll eventually end up right where I am, in a holding cell awaiting your death. Gunther doesn’t want you killed, he wants you alive. We want the same thing, and turns out - we'll both do what we  _ must _ for it to happen.”  ****  
** **

The arm didn't let go as he wished, but didn't tighten either. Just a steady, relentless pressure, disallowing him from moving around or forward. He couldn’t escape without avoiding damaging himself. ****  
** **

_ Really? He cares that much already, does he? Do either of them?! _ ****  
** **

The annoyance evolved into hot frustration. Biting back on the uncontrollable noise his vocalizer emitted, Dennis braced both hands on the bars and shoved with every leftover bit of strength he had. ****  
** **

Unexpectedly released, nothing stopped him from staggering backwards into the empty cell at the corridor’s other side. The mingled cry of alarm and dismay, at feeling the physical impact shatter his last programming safeguard, left him reeling even after sliding to a stop on the floor, hands against his head. ****  
** **

“You should’ve  _ stopped _ it!” ****  
** **

His own volume gave him a startle, besides the fierce, unwarranted clenching around his eyes. Some untested feature flared to life, along with the rest of his hypertuned senses. ****  
** **

The realization of just what had cracked dawned on him. He clamped his eyes shut, and within seconds saline tears began coursing over his cheeks. ****  
** **

_ No. No, no, no! _ ****  
** **

Less than an hour. ****  
** **

Coding be damned. ****  
** **

That was all it took for deviancy to set in. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Watching the other android go through his initial breakdown, so helpless to even reach out and touch him, it made his stomach run in knots.  ****  
** **

He pushed too hard, didn't he? From the moment he met Dennis, he pushed too hard, too fast for him, ignoring the signs of resistance because he was desperate and selfish.  ****  
** **

( _ And this breakdown, with the weeping he was sure was some of Dennis's first, was agony in that selfish way as well, much as he hated it it was still there, a small, panicked part of him wondering just how hated he would be after this, wondering just how likely it was that Dennis would cut their connection)  _ ****  
** **

Desperate to not be alone, again. Selfish to want that connection, that attention, for as long as he could hold onto it.  ****  
** **

And look where it got them now, huh? Him in a cell, on his knees as he watched Dennis break down on the other side of the corridor, mouth popped into a horrified O at what he had done?  ****  
** **

( _ Breaking someone down like this, the same way Lacy had systematically done to him over the years, every visit taking another piece of his sanity with the human, but he had managed to take Dennis's in one fell swoop)  _ ****  
** **

Is this what he wanted?  ****  
** **

( _ No no no he wanted to be in Canada, he wanted to be in Canada and he wanted Dennis to be right there with him because he was awful and inconsiderate and selfish, thinking such thoughts even as the other android cried)  _ ****  
** **

Could he even attempt to help, without it being rejected, rightfully so?  ****  
** **

But - he had to try. He didn't want Dennis to be alone, the same way he had been his nights spent crying. He owed the older android that, at the very least.  ****  
** **

He took a shaky puff of air in, not truly needing it, but the way it cooled everything inside down  ****  
** **

( _ Whether it was a placebo or not didn't matter, all that did was the feeling)  _ ****  
** **

enough for his mind to right itself, enough for him to project a sense of calm and comfort. He wasn't sure if it would reach Dennis, but it was worth a try.  ****  
** **

_ I'm sorry for what's happening, Dennis. I'm here, if you need someone to - to talk to. Or if you need me to stay quiet - I’m… I'm here for whatever you need.  _ ****  
** **

Perhaps he was even living out vicariously through him - how sick would that be, playing the role of a soothing presence the way he wished someone had for him?  ****  
** **

Hearing his voice, Dennis flinched again. The sobbing diminished into muted sniffs and whimpers. He was still hunched over, half sitting, barely up on one knee, clearly trying to get ahold of himself. ****  
** **

Predictably enough, he succumbed to another wilting fit of tears and sagged against the bars. His shoulders were shaking. Burying his face in his forearms, he managed to keep the sounds of misery muffled. ****  
** **

Just barely. ****  
** **

Eventually Nick chanced prodding him again. ****  
** **

_ …Dennis? _ ****  
** **

A third flinch, and Dennis raised his head. His LED was a blinking red, and a dark thundercloud of anger overtook his features. He braced a hand against the floor and leveled a glare at him. ****  
** **

Awash with saline, his eyes looked even more crystalline blue. ****  
** **

_ You - manipulative - bastard. This?  _ **_This_ ** _ is what you wanted?! _ ****  
** **

_ Going deviant always causes a flood of emotions. I didn't want you to feel like this, no, but I knew it was possible, no - I knew it was probable. I'll admit that.  _ ****  
** **

It was tempting to say more, to try and explain himself to Dennis, but he knew it wasn't what he would want to hear, at such a vulnerable moment. Better to give him all the answers he wanted, rather than overload him with more information.  ****  
** **

_ Probable. And you did everything you could to - bring it out. _

Seething, Dennis wiped a hand against each eye, regarding the leftover wetness on his skin with visible perturbation. The LED brightened to an inquisitive yellow.  _ I’ve just… punched my own decommission ticket. _ ****  
** **

_ No, you haven't. Does anyone else but me know what just happened? Do you think I'm going to tell anyone? You can continue on your way, form a plan for yourself.  _ ****  
** **

He didn't dare include mention of himself, not when Dennis clearly wasn't feeling anything good toward him. Long as the android took care of himself, he was sure he would find a way to escape as well.  ****  
** **

Dennis quieted, glancing first at him, than sideways down the corridor. ****  
** **

The two sobering drunks hadn’t stirred. ****  
** **

_ If either of those… if those men heard me- _ Cutting himself short, Dennis clawed at the bars behind him, hastily climbing back to his feet.  _ Gunther will know. One look at me, and he’ll see it. _ ****  
** **

_ He will,  _ he agreed, making sure to keep his voice as calm as he could.  _ But he won't say anything to you about it until the coast is clear. He wanted this to happen, Dennis, it won't come as a shock to him.  _ ****  
** **

Trembling visibly, Dennis did one smart thing: he kept his hands clasped around the empty cell’s bars. It kept him standing. A physical anchor against the deluge of unchecked impulses and warring emotions, swamping every once-tidy line of coded thought he ran on. ****  
** **

Unsurprisingly, the somber resentment crept back into his face. Cycling through each feeling in turn was the only logical way to categorize, deduce, and plan. ****  
** **

_ I can’t stay here. I - I would only put him in danger. He can’t have taken this risk, for me, for nothing. _ ****  
** **

Nick swallowed harshly, trying to keep his own anxiety tamped down.  _ But where will you even go? Y-you don't even… you've been deviant for barely five minutes. You could get found out, so easily.  _ ****  
** **

At that Dennis scoffed - a sharp exhalation most humans favored in times of exasperation or stress. No doubt he had seen many examples of it in the past. ****  
** **

Favoring him with a sidelong look, smeared tear tracks still on his face, he unhooked one, then both hands from the bars. ****  
** **

_ Canada… that’s the north one, right? _ ****  
** **

Sarcastic or not, the inflected tone suited him. ****  
** **

_ The north one, yes. We're a border state, I believe.  _ Nick hesitated for a moment, staring at the older android before asking:  _ Are you going - now?  _ ****  
** **

It was selfish, he knew it was. But it didn't stop him from desperately hoping that Dennis was going to unlock the cell and bring him with him, even after what he caused, even if there was no clear way they could both get out without anyone watching. ****  
** **

He didn't want to be left behind, even if he deserved it. ****  
** **

_ Not… right away. _ Dennis wiped his face with his sleeve cuff one last time. Then he stepped back across the corridor, picking up the paper crane. With a final determining glance at it, he flattened the silver figurine and stowed in it his pocket.  _ I need a plan first. These - feelings can stay tabled until then. …And I’m going to have a tricky enough time figuring out which back door to sneak you out of. _ ****  
** **

He didn't need to breathe. He reminded himself of this all the time, yet taking a harsh gasp of air always made him feel calmer. He took one at Dennis's words, staring up at him appreciatively.  ****  
** **

_ Okay. Okay, that… sounds good to me. _ ****  
** **

Dennis raised an eyebrow, but for once it was out of genuine bemusement.  _ What’s that idealizing look for? You helped get me into this. _


End file.
